irony is dead

OK, not really. I did, however, have a sort of rare reality-check opportunity this morning. You know all those 80s-inspired, kinda cute, quasi-ironic clothing options we’ve got at our disposal now? The kind that are so frequently abused? Well, it may be all well and good for a hot 20something to throw on a Members Only jacket with his otherwise inoffensive ensemble, but lest we forget, once upon a time people were serious about that shit. And, as I was reminded just this morning, some people still are.

Walking across one of the three parking lots on my daily route between the train and my now-infamous office, I spotted a man exiting the building I was about to walk into. Even from a distance, he seemed different. Remarkable. As he drew nearer, the first thing I really registered was the hair: traditional kickstand mullet. Then the facial hair: traditional redneck/NASCAR moustache. Good lord. Remember Jeff Foxworthy? Like that, only worse. I looked closer: clearly, this was no hipster. Though he didn’t look to be much over 35, he was undoubtely serious. The hair, the moustache, the skinny jeans and – yes, folks – the brown leather tab-collar Members Only jacket: he is the reality of the decade from which so much recent fashion inspiration has been drawn. Let this be a lesson to hipsters everywhere: before you put on those creeper shoes, think carefully: there is fun, and then there is reality. The reality is that the 80s were a decade of really horrifying fashion. Pieces here and there are all well and good and clever and fun, and i would be lying if i pretended never to succumb to my disco diva urges, but beware the draw of The Ensemble, lest you wind up at the club in orange parachute pants and Chuck Taylors. Go back and look at photos of real live people back in 1982. There but for the grace of Barney’s go you.